


Avrienne

by OsytheUnderSiege



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Elf Mage, Elf/Human Relationship(s), F/M, Female Protagonist, Mages, Spirits, The Fade, secondary character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 12:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21075023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OsytheUnderSiege/pseuds/OsytheUnderSiege
Summary: The alienage was all Avrienne knew before she was taken by the Templars to the Ostwick circle where despite her timid bookworm nature she befriended the young and charismatic nobleman Kain Trevelyan. As a talented rune crafter with an affinity within the Fade, and favored apprentice to a renowned member of the Loyalist Fraternity, her world, and place within the Circle, is challenged by forbidden romance, political tension, the threat of tranquility, and rebellion.





	Avrienne

Avrienne

By OsytheUnderSiege

PART I

~Introduction~

9:28 Dragon

A disgruntled bird cawed loudly outside the small wood hut as the tired fabric batted gently against the dusty window. Avrienne groaned and turned on her lumpy straw bed toward the wall as the morning breeze filtered into her small room. She wanted to hold on to the last fragment of sleep for as long as she could, but the bird was relentless and the dream already lost. 

It was the same one again, but she knew if she opened her eyes, it would be forgotten, and this time she was determined to keep hold of it long enough to determine what it was about. Within seconds her mother burst into the small room. “Get up! What are you going to do, sleep all day?” She abruptly tugged the blankets from her reluctant teenage daughter. 

With sleepy eyes the young girl sighed at her mother as she moved into a seated position, her disheveled light brown hair slinking over one shoulder as she pulled her long bangs from her face. “Why can’t I just sleep?” she whined in a quiet daze. In her dream she was searching for something, and someone important was helping her, but she couldn’t remember who or what they were looking for, only that she was close to finding it.

“I’ve paid good coin for your schooling, now Lady Bytron is waiting.” Her mother tossed a worn plain dress on the girl then returned to the cooking fire in the opposite corner of the house. 

“She’s not even a real teacher,” Avri groaned into the neck of the tan garment as she fitted it over her head. She glanced in the murky mirror beside the door to assure she was fit to leave the house, and frowned. Avri wondered if her slender shape would ever mature and curve the way her mother’s did, or if her hair would ever frame her face in the same way that made her mother so painstakingly beautiful. “The qualities of the mind are far more important,” her mother would say whenever Avri breached the subject. Irritated, the girl swept her hand through her hair to straighten it and rushed out the door, not even pausing when her mother turned from her cooking to bid her farewell. 

Outside the smells of the quant alienage wafted in the air, the familiar mixture of fresh bread and poorly drained sewage. The houses were worn and tired but the streets were relatively free of debris, something the Heran had once said gave their community pride over the larger city alienages. As she walked her dress hem patted just above her knees, shorter than intended for the style since she had grown faster than it could handle. Her slim frame allowed for longer wear of dresses, something she resented but was none the less praised by her frugal mother. She frowned and rolled up the sleeves to hide the inadequate arm length as she headed toward the Wycome chantry. Elves from the alienage could only pass through the gate into the city if they had a human escort. It wasn’t an official rule punishable by law, but everyone knew it. Lady Bytron sat on the bench before the large embellished chantry doors, impatiently awaiting her arrival.

“Good morning my Lady,” Avri offered, politely bowing her head in respect, “excuse my tardiness, I overslept.”

The elderly woman shook her head, her round spectacles bounced gently on the bridge of her nose as she replied in her articulate but nasal voice, “Indeed child, this won’t be tolerated, would you waste your mother’s efforts by such carelessness?” The human’s blue eyes stared down her nose into the face of the girl. Avri often thought that in her youth Lady Bytron probably had been rather pretty, but time and frowning had ebbed her features into a disgruntled scowl that etched into her wrinkles.

“No ma’am,” she dropped her head in humility.

The human shook her head, her cheeks brushing against her fluffy fur scarf, “Very well, let us get started.”

Avri bid farewell to the morning sun as she disappeared into the chantry following her tutor, knowing it would be near dark when she would next leave it. It was unusual for an alienage elf to have proper schooling, a rare privilege in fact, but the months kept inside and away from her friends and mother made it difficult to be grateful. She could see her mother now, stirring the stew pot and lecturing about how Avri’s hands should be used for writing and not for digging in the mud in the fields. Avri didn’t mind the mud. Every wedding ceremony included a brick festival where prior to the celebration there would be a feast and all the children would compete at how fast they could pound the mud into the straw lined wooden frames. She never kept up, but her best friend Bron would choose her for his partner anyways. It was work, but there was something special about everyone participating, not like the long hours of isolation she spent in the back of the human chantry practicing her letters. Lady Byrton was rarely impressed. But then when Avri brought samples home to show Mamae she would gush over Avri’s accomplishments, far more than deserved, but still, it felt good. It had been awhile since the last wedding. In a few years the Harren would make her a match. She didn’t understand why mamae was so against it. Bron had always said when they grew up she would be his wife. But then last year he said the same thing to Felda, his last brick partner, because Avri was attending studies and missed the festival. The jealousy stung. Would everyone be able to make the bricks for her house someday or was she just doomed to perish under the pile of books and scrolls lady Bytron continually added to her ever growing assignments? 

Hours later Lady Bytron nodded at Avri’s progress and dismissed her. When she emerged from the dusty building the sun was low in the sky, painting the shambled houses in orange. Lady Bytron looked on as she stepped to the alienate gates, something Avri had always been grateful for. There were stories of elves being harassed, robbed or murdered passing through the human city. Mamae said it was nonsense, but Bron had swore it happened to his cousin’s uncle’s good friend in Hercenia. 

“Hey Avri!” a cracked voice called behind her as she passed the great tree in the center of their hamlet. She turned to the dirty face of Bron, his clothes soiled from a day of working the fields. He bounded toward her, his awkward legs over feet that had grown too abruptly to properly use, excitedly catching his breath as he said, “I never see you anymore, what are you doing in that ‘ol chantry with that ‘ol shem all day?”

“Careful don’t say that word,” she snapped her jade eyes at him, her body tensing in fear.

He scoffed, “What do I care? It’s not like they care enough to listen to us.” He pawed at the books in her hands, “Doing all sorts of learning are you?”

“I was in school, I have to go.” She clutched her writing to her chest. She should be proud of her accomplishments, and she was eager to show them to Mamae, but when Bron or the others prodded her she felt shame and became defensive.

The teenage boy shook his hands and kicked sand after her as she quickened pace toward home, shouting after her, “Fine whatever. Not like we’re even friends anymore. I’m for reals marrying Felda!”

She paused at the front door of her house, the faded red painted door sat adjar. With a gentle push she called into the darkness, “Mamae?”

The room was dark and echoed hollow. 

“There you are,” the town elder called behind her, his face struggling to remain calm. 

She turned and offered a respectful bow before greeting him, “Heran Eldran, hello.”

He waved his hand in a firm rapid motion, “Come child, you will stay with Evillsa and I for the night.”

She obeyed and fell into step beside him as he guided her down the narrow roads to his house. Being the elder it was expected he’d have the largest best maintained house but his looked just as worn and in need of repair as the others. Avri supposed it had been a long time since bricks were built for him. Bron once told her that the elder had been married for 120 years, she had learned enough since then to know the Heran hadn’t rediscovered the immortality of their people. His house was just simply old. Mamae had said that made him a better leader, Avri didn’t understand why. 

He turned the rusted knob and shouted inside, “My dear, she is here.”

His wife, a lithe older elf with long braided silver hair, walked into the main room holding a basket of bread. Her eyebrows furrowed when she saw the girl, “Welcome dear, dinner will be out in a few moments, please wash up.” She spun on her heel causing her aged crimson dress to flutter behind her as she headed back toward the kitchen. 

Avri sat her parchments down and stood in front of the ceramic washbasin. The water was cold but her mind was far too distracted to notice her hands turning red from its harsh exposure. 

Evillsa walked in from the kitchen, handing the girl a dry cloth from her waist as she said, “Come sit, dinner is ready.”

The towel helped encourage feeling back into Avri’s hands as she patted it over her cold skin. Looking up at the elder’s wife, she said, “I am grateful for your hospitality, but where is mamae?” It was clear something was amiss and she was becoming frustrated that she wasn’t being told what.

The older elven woman sighed and tucked the towel back in her belt, “Oh child, Andraste’s mercy, there’s no easy way to tell you, your mother is not coming back.”

The girl's eyes widened and she demanded with a pained anguish, “Why? What happened?”

Evillsa set her hands in comfort on the girl’s brittle shoulders and attempted to console her. “She has left dear, it’s hard to understand, but know she loved you very much.”

Avri shrugged and swatted the Woman’s hands away, “No! She would never!!” The despair welled in her chest as she accused, “Tell me what happened!” 

“There was a human-it's in the hands of the Maker, I’ll explain when you are older and will understand,” Evillsa’s voice was soothing in her attempt to console her, but her face reflected the turmoil the subject brought. 

With tears forming the girl turned to run but Eldran stood blocking the doorway.

Reaching out to restrain her he commanded, “Be still child, you must calm.”

Avri gritted her teeth, frustrated with her lack of ability to escape the man’s weathered hands. Then a scream filled the room as Evillsa watched in horror while her husband’s hands were consumed in fire. Avri jumped back from the heat, her hands reaching behind her to steady her against the dresser. On the table the ceramic wash bin cracked as the water rapidly froze too fast for the bowl to handle. The elder cowered, clutching his charred hands. 

“She- she’s got magic!” He expelled through frightened ragged breaths, “Quick fetch the guard!”

“I-I-” Avri stood in stunned horror at her own hands. With a sob she curled into a ball on the floor, shaking. In gasps she mumbled, “I-I'm-sorry-” 

Around her a small layer of frost formed, then quickly melted by dwindling sparks. As the furniture around her started to go aflame she gripped her head tightly and screamed. Evillsa thrusted her hands out grabbing the largest fragment of the cracked washbin, then with a pained cry she drove it down onto the girl's head. With blood rising from the young mage’s temple she was still, the frost and flames quieting around her. 

With a sharp sob Evillsa tossed the washbin piece aside and ran to her husband. His face was pale but he managed to stand. Clutching his charred hands to his chest he looked to her with a frown as he declared, “We must notify the templars.”

~Chapter 1: To the Circle~

The sunlight from the window danced over the Templar’s armor, throwing shattered strands of yellow across the wall. It fluctuated with his movements and highlighted every imperfection in the clay. Avri counted the dots as she waited patiently in the next room. The door was ajar where he discussed her fate with the town elder. 

“How old is she?” The Templar asked with his low stern voice. His eyes were void, as though he had already done this several times today and found it to be the least interesting activity. Avri didn’t like the dark stubble on his chin, she wasn’t sure why, but it somehow made him look more intimidating. His height and demeanor, let alone his full plate armor, ensured he needed no help appearing such. Her cracked door allowed her to catch a glimpse of the back of his shoulder as he stood near the window in the Elder’s three room house.

“She's 13 sir,” Heran Eldran’s voice was strained with fatigue. A young human stood next to the Templar eagerly writing down his answer on his parchment. 

“And this was her first incident?” The Templar asked.

“Yes,” Eldran answered, his eyes bouncing around the black scorch marks along the walls and dresser, then to the small darkened circle where the girl had been on the floor the night before, “I can guarantee her mother had no idea either.”

“And where is she?” The Templar demanded.

The alienage elder paused then answered, “Yesterday she went to be with the Maker sir.”

The Templar nodded, “Did the child have anything to do with that?”

“By Andraste no!” The elder defended, “she-” he lowered his voice to escape the girl in the next room, but the walls were thin and Avri barely had to strain to hear them. “Sr, she abandoned the girl to my care, it is better she think her mother dead, but I swear by the center tree the child had no signs of magic until last night.”

Avri’s ears burned with anger and her chest swelled with pain. It couldn't be true. Their voices muffled as her attention focused on the ash in the fireplace. Her palms grew warm and she took in a series of deep breaths to attempt to stifle the heat. Her hands balled into sweaty fists on her lap as she reveled in guilt at the terror she caused last night. No, mamae would not have abandoned her. Would she? Fortunately she was too tired to form flames, her body ached and her mind blurred. She had to keep calm. She focused on the conversation again. 

“...there will be no visitors,” the Templar’s voice filtered through the room as she focused her attention back into the present, “it must be understood that she is now a ward of the Ostwick circle of Magi.”

“We understand,” the elder answered, sorrow seeping into his voice, “She's a clever girl, respectful and kind, please take care of her.”

“She will be watched,” the Templar answered, “Maker’s blessings on you.” 

Avri straightened up in her chair as the towering human entered the room. His eyes were cold and black, and his dark stringy hair was pulled tightly behind his head. “Come Mage,” he commanded. Around him his red haired scribe strained to get a look at her. As she stood the teenage boy wrinkled his freckled nose. 

She paid him no mind as she said, “Yes sir,” and willingly followed him out of the elder’s home. In the doorway the couple watched in regretful silence as the Templar marched her through town. Friends and neighbors she'd known her entire life stood staring, and some whispered, “The Vaullis girl has magic?” With her mouth tight to steady her trembling lip she kept her eyes forward, ashamed to look at them. Her feet were heavy as she walked. She wished they would be past the onlookers soon.

As they exited the gates of the alienage Bron shouted after her, “Mage or not I won't forget you Avri! You’re my best friend!” 

She chanced a look back to her childhood friend, his brown eyes sad as he pressed his smudged face into the bars of the gate. 

The streets of Wycome were less welcoming. The humans looked on with fear and hatred, and Avri felt her face grow hot. Lady Bytron rose from her bench by the Chantry and peered on with surprised contemplation at the Templar guiding her student. She stepped out with a foot but paused, evidently deciding not to say anything after all. Avri couldn’t look at her and kept her eyes on her feet. 

“The circle will be your home,” the Templar said to her as they arrived at the stables. His tone was devoid of emotion and lended little reassurance. “Obedience is expected, do not give us reason to discipline you,” he continued, pulling her up onto his scribe's horse. 

Uncomfortable sitting behind the boy she laid her hands over her legs, hoping that the horse wouldn’t startle lest she be thrown off. It was her first time on a horse. They headed south through the rest of the city, the only sound the horse’s hooves against the cobblestone path. Once beyond the last collection of houses she looked back only once at Wycome fading behind them. She had never left the alienage, but to go to the Chantry for lessons, and regretted not taking in more of the city, but the stares of the people meant she was less welcome to look at it as she had been just being an elf. Now she was a mage. A mage. Her heart sank. 

After an hour of riding in sulking silence her thoughts were interrupted as the scribe said low to her over his shoulder, “You know, you are my first.”

She snapped her attention from watching the trees sway in the wind at the side of the road and responded, “I'm sorry what?”

He tossed his attention back to the road momentarily then back to her. She’d never seen so many freckles on someone’s face before. “My first Mage capture,” he answered proudly. His voice was deeper than would be expected, as if it had grown up faster than his face and lanky teenage arms. Avrin wondered how old he was, 16,17? Humans always looked older than they were. “I've been a Scribe for the last year,” he continued, “and I've been waiting for the day when I could come out with Commander Sutherlund. When he deems me ready I will take my vows as a Templar. Who knew a mage would come from that filthy alienage.”

“You must be proud,” she answered, hoping her bitterness was hidden well under the statement. He wasn’t the first human she encountered that insulted her home, or her ears. It still burned inside her to hear it though. 

“Just do well do remember I'm in charge Mage,” he looked back to the front with purpose, his back straight and nose upward.

Her heart sank deeper as she watched his light cherry hair bounce at his collar with the horse’s trot. Eventually Her eyes grew heavy and her chin met her chest as she muffled her sobs, praying the rider in front of her remained oblivious. Her face grew hot with humiliation as his rigid frame softened and he looked again over his shoulder. “Hey,” he said quietly, attempting to console her, “just don't use magic then nobody will beat you or turn you tranquil.”

She sniffled and ran her sleeve over her eyes to dry them. “What's tranquil?” She asked, the breath heavy in her chest. Lady Brytron hadn’t lectured about mages, or templars, her focus of late had been on the Canticles within the Chant of Light. Andraste and the Maker had always been a well known topic but Avrienne wasn’t sure she believed all of it. Regardless Andraste had freed the ancient elves, and it was an unspoken sentiment among her people that Maker or not the prophet was worth gratitude and acknowledgment for that.

“Don't you know anything?” He shook his head in annoyance, “it's when the Templars remove magic from a Mage.”

“Magic should serve man and not rule over him,” she quoted, remembering one of Lady Byron’s recent lessons. 

“At least you know the Chant,” the boy shrugged, “figured a knife ear like you would follow some false tree gods or something.”

Her face burned at his insult, “I was born and raised in Wycome, not some forest!” The anger burned behind her eyes. Mamae has said her father went to find the Dalish before she was born, and they killed him.

“What the-” He shook on the horse and grabbed at his leg. His waterskin was covered in frost that had started to creep onto his pants. “Commander!” He shouted ahead to the Templar. His voice cracked, whether from fear or the fact that it was on the crux of changing with his age it wasn’t certain. 

Commander Sutherlund turned on his horse and circled back to face them, glaring at the girl. Avri held her breath as she felt pressure all around her. An invisible and consuming force penetrating her skin. 

“I'm so sorry!” She squeaked, finding it strange to move, as though she were covered in thorny spider webs. She was terrified.

“Don't irritate her Orric,” he ordered, “she can't help what she is and hasn't the training to know better.” His words were irritated, as though she were a Mabari pup that just messed inside the house. He turned his focus to Avri and ordered, “At least attempt to behave.”

“Yes sir,” she lowered her eyes, “I'm sorry.”

The Templar turned his horse, “It's half a day's journey to Ostwick, I expect no more trouble from either of you.”

“Yes Commander,” Orric confirmed.

Avri sighed and watched the tall blades of grass wave in the gentle breeze. With the steady bouncing of the horse’s steps and the restless sleepless night ebbing at her she closed her eyes and dropped her head onto Orric’s back. Pleased with the silence the scribe lent no complaint at the sleeping girl resting on him. 

~~~~~~~

Avri awoke with a start. Confused she peered around the darkness then scowled as she looked up to Orric looking down at her. His arm was around her shoulder, cradling her like a toddler. He smirked, “You sleep like the dead, you started to fall off so I pulled you around front,” he explained. “It's annoying but at least asleep you couldn't do magic. And aside from your snores you were quiet.”

She had never been held like this before, only by Mamae years ago, and pink rushed to her cheeks as she felt the young man's chest press at her shoulder with his breaths. “I'm awake now,” she groaned, squirming to sit away from him, “And I don’t snore!” 

“Just wait,” he said with raising annoyance, “you can't just move like that on a horse, we’re almost to the Circle then I’ll kick you off.”

She followed his gaze forward to flickering lights in the distance. After a short silence, she asked, “What will happen when we arrive?”

Orric answered with confidence, “You will be evaluated by the Knight Commander and First Enchanter. We will take your blood for your phylactery, then you'll be given some robes and a place to sleep. You’ll study or whatever until you die.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, “Phylactery?” 

He sighed at her ignorance. “Blood so we can track you if you try to escape.”

“How...much blood will they take?” Panic pulled at her voice.

“At least an entire vial, and it’s a big one,” he responded. Her eyes widened and he laughed at her shiver. His fingers tapped at her shoulder, “You are really heavy.”

Aghast she exclaimed, “I am not!”

He chuckled, “Don't worry about it, I'm strong enough to handle it.”

She frowned but her irritation was interrupted as the groaning of the great doors welcomed them into the circle courtyard. Commander Sutherlund waved for the boy to take his horse to the stalls. Sternly he instructed, “Keep her quiet in the main room, I'll send for you when the Knight Commander is ready to evaluate her.”

“Yes Commander,” Orric responded, then led the horse toward the stables just 20 feet away. She slid down to the ground, her feet protesting from the long journey as they hit the hay covered stone. Terror bounced in her stomach at the notion of losing her blood. “Hey,” he said, grabbing her hand to guide her toward the main hall great doors, “just do what they say and it'll be alright.”

She nodded but his advice gave her little reassurance. At the end of a short walkway two Templars stood guard at the entrance. With authority Orric said to them, “I have this Mage to present to Knight Commander Pryor.”

One of the guards nodded with a roll of his eyes, “Alright runt, Sutherlund is inside already, get on with you.”

The doors spread and a warm wisp of wind escaped the main foyer where a fire was burning in front of some chairs. Two Templars greeted them and one nodded in acknowledgement to Orric as he took Avri away by the elbow. The metal of his gauntlet dug into her arm but she didn’t protest as he led her down a hallway as though she were a child to be delivered to her parents for discipline. At the end of the hallway the Templar pushed her into a small room. Inside was a dark wood desk and an array of bookshelves. At the desk sat an elderly woman in emerald robes that spilled over her arms. She concentrated on a parchment where her black feather pen scratched over it. 

“Leave her,” she said without looking up. 

The Templar gave Avri’s back a little push to encourage her toward the empty chair in front of the desk. The girl sat nervously at the edge of the cold wood, waiting patiently for the elderly woman's attention. With a quick flick she placed the quill in a nearly empty ink pot and turned her wise eyes to the new apprentice. Her voice softer than with the Templar she said, “Welcome Avrienne, we've been expecting you. I am First Enchanter Estol.” She folded her wrinkled hands in front of her on the desk as she spoke, “Would you like some water?”

“No, thank you ma’am,” Avri responded meekly, tightening her fingers on her lap.

Estol rose and fetched a glass pitcher from the side table. Pouring herself a glass of water she continued, “You are now an apprentice of the circle of Ostwick. I am leader of the Mages, usually it's small children they bring me, but you are-” she flipped over a sheet then confirmed, “13?”

“Yes ma’am,” Avri’s voice was dry. 

The First Enchanter pushed her untouched water toward the girl, “You may call me First Enchanter if you will. Despite your magic surfacing late I expect you to be diligent and never to use that as an excuse to give this Circle less.”

Avri watched the water steady in the glass then reached a shaky hand out to take it, “Yes First Enchanter.”

Estol grinned. “Such politeness. We have only a few moments before my Templar counterpart arrives, I expect integrity and respect for the Circle from my mages. We have a strict way of life here and it will not be easy. But remember, your magic is a gift and if mastered properly we can help you be more than you ever dreamed.”

Avri shifted in her seat then looked Estol in the eye as she said, “Yes First Enchanter, I am ready to begin.”

Estol filled the girl’s empty cup and continued, “First the Knight Commander will need a blood sample for your phylactery. Take heed, should you escape these walls they will find you. These stones are as much a cage as they are a refuge. The first lesson today is understanding that. This is your life now, whatever you were before, you are now an apprentice of the Ostwick circle. What will follow depends mostly on you. Within these walls we have more knowledge than you can learn in a lifetime. Studies begin strictly at sunrise. Meals are served twice daily, and chore assignments will be assigned each week. There is an allowance to attend Chantry service and contemplation on a case by case basis. Do you have any questions?”

Avri hesitated a moment as she tapped her fingers on the glass in front of her. She answered without looking up, “Will I learn to suppress my magic? So that I cannot hurt anyone?”

The First Enchanter set her hand over the girl's and responded with affirmation, “You will learn to control it.”

“Estol!” A Templar entered the room. She pulled off her helmet and set it on the First Enchanter's desk as she shook out her dark hair while she continued, “Forgive the delay, Sutherlund was sour this morning. Your fault?” Her ocean eyes fell with accusation onto Avri.

The girl stiffened in her seat and the Templar chuckled. “At ease apprentice, freezing a scribe’s leg is hardly worth my wrath,” then her playful eyes harden into a stern glare, “but don't mistake me, disobedience toward the Templar order will not be tolerated.”

Estol rolled her eyes and said, “This is Knight Commander Dionne Pryor.”

Pryor pulled a small dagger from her belt and demanded, “Hold out your arm apprentice.” 

Avri held out a shaky thin arm. Closing her eyes she braced herself for the inevitable blood draw. She let out a small suppressed whimper as the blade glided across her forearm leaving a stinging line in its wake. 

“We’re done,” Pryor declared, pressing a clean rag to the tiny wound. 

“Oh!” Avri’s pale face pulled back in some color as she evaluated the thin shallow slit, “I thought…”

Pryor’s laugh was deep in her chest, “The build up is too hard to pass up. But yes, it's easy.” She snapped her fingers and a young apprentice appeared in the doorway. “Trevelyan show this apprentice to her new room will you.” The boy, no older than 14, nodded, causing his sandy blonde hair to shift over his golden robed shoulders. He waited patiently as Avri made her way to the door. “And remember,” Pryor called after her, “we are watching.”


End file.
